


Secrets Keep You Sick (But Sometimes I Like to Keep it That Way)

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Dissociation, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Heavy Angst, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wesley Crusher is Not Okay, really sad, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For some reason, a lump suddenly appears in his throat. He almost tells her right there and then. 'There’s something wrong with me,' he wants to say. 'Nothing feels real. I’m so sad all of the time. Something happened to me, Mom, something bad. I need help.'But of course, he doesn't say anything.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 76





	1. Underwater

300 hours is the quietest hour on the Enterprise.

Wesley has grown to know the soft white noise that’s constantly in the background, the artificial beeps and whirring of computers and engines. There aren’t that many people awake at this time, save for the night crew, a few insomniacs, and usually Guinan.

Wesley is, he supposes, one of those insomniacs. He’s always been one. It’s just that...it hasn’t always been like this.

Wesley stops pacing his room and stares through the window into the vastness of space. If he stands here pressed up against the glass long enough, he can scare himself. What exactly he’s afraid of, he’s not quite sure of. It’s not like his normal anxiety. No, that kind of fear is quick and loud and sharp, like a fire alarm going off in your ear.

This kind of fear is a deep, dark, sickly, achy fear, driving deep into his heart and pulling out all of the lies and cover-ups.

His breath catches and he presses his forehead against the glass, resenting the faint reflection he sees, longing so much for somebody to come into the room and pull him away from the window and back into reality, like he has a hundred other times on a hundred other nights just like this one.

No one ever does, of course.

Nobody knows.

Or nobody cares.

Or both.

Wesley, despite himself, lets out a quiet sob. It wouldn’t work anyway. He hasn’t been able to pull himself back into reality for so long, he can’t even remember what it feels like to not be in this...in this sick, dreamy, sticky haze.

He screws his eyes shut and slides down the wall, landing with his knees pulled up to his chest. There have been hundreds of other nights just like this one. What he’s learned from all of this is that even though, being on the Enterprise, he encounters serious life-or-death situations nearly every day, none of them are as scary the thought of living like this for the rest of his life.

But even that can’t compare to the amount of sheer terror that washes over him every time he thinks about telling anyone.

So he’s kinda stuck.

* * *

“Wesley?”

“Huh? What?” Wesley shakes his head, pulling himself out of his daydream.  _ You’re in the engineering room with Geordi. You’re fine. _

“You okay?” Geordi asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Wesley gives him a smile, something that was at first painful to fake. It’s getting easier now.

“Alright. I asked you to readjust the tetryon subspace phaser. The toranium holochip is disrupted.”

“On it,” Wesley states, even though it’s really the last thing he wants to be doing right now.

_ I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.  _ This mantra goes over in his head over and over as he does what Geordi told him to. How much longer until his shift is over? That’s usually all he thinks about all day.

All he really wants to do anymore is sleep. Even though that’s not really an option anymore. He really can’t remember the last time he’s gotten a real full night’s sleep. Any time he does end up falling asleep before 300 hours is almost always interrupted by nightmares. They’re very strange nightmares, too. Wesley thinks back to the dream he had while asleep on the floor last night.

_ A hundred black birds swarm around a dead body, picking the meat off the bones until there’s nothing left but a skeleton and a still-beating heart. As they begin to fly away, they move into the shape of a lion in the sky. It gives a ferocious roar and then bellows something in a thundering voice that Wesley can’t quite make out. The birds fly away and disappear into the grey sky, swirling and diving as they do so. _

_ He’s all alone in a creepy ghost town that looks like an ancient Earth. Everything is black and white and grey, except for a few random buildings, which look as if they’re dripping with a dark red blood. There’s nobody there, but he can hear voices all around him. Some of them are laughing, lighthearted. Some of them sound like they’re screaming in anguish. Most of them are whispery, creepy, unintelligible voices. Sometimes he can make out things like “idiot” and “fat” and “annoying.” _

_ They get louder and louder and louder and his heart beats faster and faster and faster and the voices get clearer and clearer and clearer and he knows they’re talking about him… “nobody cares about you.” “You think you’re so perfect, you irritating piece of-” “Ugly.” “Fat.” “Why would you think anybody would want to help you?” “You will never be enough.” _

_ And then they get so loud that he screams and he wants OUT of his HEAD and it just gets worse and worse and worse because he  _ knows  _ that they’re  _ right  _ and- _

“Wesley?”

“What?” Wesley practically jumps out of his skin when he realizes someone’s talking to him.

“You’re really out of it today,” Geordi chuckles, taking the PADD out of his hands. “I was gonna ask you to re-calibrate the sensors, but I can ask someone else to do that. You look like you need a break.”

“Uh. Yeah. Thanks,” Wesley says sheepishly.

He shivers, even though he’s not cold, and walks out of engineering.  _ I’m fine, _ he says to himself. Because he has to be.

* * *

Wesley wanders around the Enterprise for a few minutes, not really sure of where he’s going. It’s really bad today. His head is pounding and everything sounds like he’s underwater.

He ends up in sickbay, his head still spinning. He can’t really remember walking here, but here he is, feeling like he’s in a different dimension while somebody is trying to talk to him.

“Wesley. Wesley?” he finally recognizes his mother’s voice and snaps his head up to look at her.

“Oh. Sorry,” he says. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay.” Beverly brushes some of his hair out of his eyes, looking concerned.

“I’m...I’m fine,” Wesley says, flinching away from her touch.

His mother furrows her eyebrows. “Are you sure? Why’d you come in here?”

“Uhh...I don’t...know…” Wesley scratches the back of his neck and takes another step back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going. I didn’t...I didn’t get great sleep last night.”

Beverly steps closer to him. “I’ve been worried about you lately,” she says softly. “You haven’t been acting like yourself. You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong, right?”

For some reason, a lump suddenly appears in his throat. He almost tells her right there and then.  _ There’s something wrong with me, _ he wants to say.  _ Nothing feels real _ .  _ I’m so sad all of the time. Something happened to me, Mom, something bad. I need  _ help _. _

But then another ensign comes in behind him with a bloody nose and an obviously broken arm. This easily pulls Dr. Crusher’s attention away from her son. “Sorry, Wes. We’ll talk later,” she says, rushed, turning to her new patient.

_ Told you nobody cared,  _ a voice inside of him sneers.  _ Obviously she isn’t worried about you. She hates you. Everybody hates you. _

Suddenly everything feels even more wrong. It’s like he’s plunged back under water. Wesley walks out of sickbay and down the hall to his room.

He’s so out of it he’s surprised he even notices  _ it  _ pass by him in the hall.  _ It _ looks in his direction, gives a small smirk that makes Wesley’s heart pound.

He completely freezes, bracing himself for the worst as thoughts go wild around his mind.

( _ WhatishegoingtodoIsaidnoIsaidnopleaseGoddon’tletmeohmygoshohmygoshpleasenodon’ttouchme) _

But  _ it _ walks past him without trying anything.

Wesley regains his composure, and then locks himself up in his room for the next few hours, pacing back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around his aching stomach.

He is so trapped.

He needs to tell somebody.

But he feels like his mouth is sewn shut.

Wesley looks at his hands, which look strangely foreign, as if they aren’t his own. He places them over his mouth, like  _ it  _ had done.

_ “Now,” he had said, “you don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” _


	2. Panic

Wesley wakes up hyperventilating. His chest heaving, he quickly sits up and bed and pulls his knees to his chest.

Needless to say, his mom had forgotten all about their short conversation in sickbay. Half of himself is relieved. The other half is terrified.

Terrified because  _ nobody notices _ . Nobody has any idea what happened or what’s been going on.

Wesley feels as if he’s screaming at the top of his lungs and everybody around him is deaf.

He realizes that he’s always felt this way. Not to this degree, no, but everybody always thinks he’s fine for some reason. He never caused any trouble in school. He’s always been such a good student. He took his father’s death so well. Everybody has always commented on how mature and grown-up he is.

Wesley has never felt so much like a child. Helpless, small, and weak.

His stomach begins to ache. He feels hot all over, as if he has a fever, but he’s checked his temperature several times and it’s completely normal.

“How could I have been so stupid?” he murmurs to himself, his eyes closed. Because even though logic tells him it wasn’t his fault, that little voice (that seems to be getting louder) is telling him it was.

He doesn’t know which one to believe.

Everything is so confusing.

He gets up and begins to pace. A faint hint of a smile appears on his face. He’s surprised he hasn’t worn a path in the floor by now. The smile quickly fades as his mind lands on the thing he’s been trying to hard not to think about.

_ “I don’t...I don’t want…” _

_ “Oh, come on, Crusher. What do you think this is? It’s our third date. You should be ready by now, you prude.” Jadiel pushes Wesley against the wall, unfastens his uniform. _

Memories of that night come rushing back. Wesley closes his eyes again. Stuck.

_ Everything inside him says to run for his life, but he just  _ can’t _. He freezes. “Jay,” Wesley says, trembling. “I...said...no.” _

_ Jadiel gives him a smile. “It’ll be fine, Wes.” _

He bites his lip.

_ Wesley tries to squirm out of his grip, but Jay pins him back against the wall. “I said no,” Wesley repeats, a little louder this time, but tears are still evident in his voice. _

_ “I don’t care,” Jadiel whispers, his breath hot on Wesley’s ear. He strokes Wesley’s face and then...and then... _

He shakes his head. “No,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have gone out with that guy. I knew...I knew…” his voice cracks on the last “knew” and he breaks into tears.

Nobody knows.

Nobody in the whole universe.

The weight of this sentence pushes deep on his chest and on the lump in his throat.

Wesley places his hands over his mouth and begins to sob.

It was already so bad before he started dating Jadiel. Now he can barely hold a conversation.  _ Everything is wrong. _

“Oh my God,” he whispers. “Oh my  _ God _ , what am I going to do?”

Well first, he’s going to take another shower.

He feels so dirty.

* * *

Wesley remembers when he was 14 years old and his mother got a job on the Enterprise. He remembers the captain making him acting ensign. He was so excited. So eager. Now he would literally love nothing more than to quit and live in his room for the rest of his life.

But he knows he can’t do that. First of all, that would make everyone suspicious, and he absolutely can’t have that.

Everything hurts. His stomach is still aching, his heart is still doing flips in his chest, and his head is still pounding. He wonders if it’ll ever go away.

“Warp 5, Mr. Crusher,” Picard says.

“Yes, sir,” Wesley replies. He doesn’t remember where they’re going. All he knows is that his shift is almost over.

There’s been a steady feeling of panic in his chest the last few days. He constantly feels uncomfortable. There’s this constant nagging feeling in the back of his head that  _ something isn’t right _ , and he can’t get rid of it.

Of course, he knows exactly what isn’t right, so that’s not the problem. The problem is, there’s nothing he can do about it.

Maybe...maybe he can talk to Troi. Not about...not about Jadiel, of course. But about the sticky haze that makes everything slow and far away. And possibly about the worsening anxiety, too.

But...what if Jadiel found out? What if he tried something again?

Wesley’s knuckles are white as he grips the side of the console. No, he has to do something about this.

_ What if what if what if what if… _

“Wesley,” Deanna Troi says, causing Wesley to jump. “I want to talk to you after your shift is over, okay?”

Panic and relief are simultaneous. “O-Okay,” Wesley agrees softly.

* * *

Wesley’s only been in Troi’s office once before. It was a few years ago, when he first moved aboard the Enterprise. She’d wanted to make sure he was adjusting alright, because she’d seen on his file he had a history of anxiety and depression. Wesley thought that was stupid, because there was no way she was going to talk to everyone on the ship with a history of anxiety and depression to see if they were adjusting alright.

Now, as he sits on the couch, jiggling his leg so hard it seems like it might drill a hole in the floor, he wonders if she sensed his feelings about Captain Picard and his dad and starfleet. Which was an interesting thought, because even he hadn’t realized those feelings, until much, much afterwards.

Troi sits down across from him on the other couch and gives him a sad, knowing look.

The look she gives him makes him feel uncomfortable. Wesley looks at the floor.

“I’ve been sensing some pretty strong feelings from you for a while now,” she says gently, “and I can tell they’ve been getting worse.”

His mouth stays firmly shut, so Troi continues.

“Do you ever remember feeling this way before?”

Wesley feels tears rising from inside him. He shakes his head, still not talking.

Troi shifts in her seat. “Wesley, look at me,” she tells him.

He looks up.

“Tell me how you’ve been feeling recently.”

“Why? You already know.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Long pause. Wesley swallows his tears and takes a deep breath. “I feel,” he whispers, looking away again and shaking his head, “I feel like I’m somewhere else. All the time. Like...I don’t know. Like, I guess, um, I’m dreaming? You know when you’re dreaming and you can’t...can’t really tell if things are real or not?”

Troi nods.

“And sometimes, everything sounds like it’s...underwater. Or really far away. I just…” he shrugs, feeling like he’s shared too much already. “I just feel distant.”

“When you were telling me that, you started to feel relaxed at first, and then at the end, you started panicking again. Why is that?”

_ (HandsgrabbingIsaidnoIsaidnodon’ttelldon’ttelldon’ttelldon’ttell) _

“Nothing!” Wesley stands up. “It’s...it’s fine. You know, this has been great, counselor. Really helpful. I feel better already.” He rushes out of her office before she can say anything else.

When he gets back to his room, he throws up.


	3. Your Fault

_ I’mfineI’mfineI’mfineI’mfine. _

_ What a liar. You can’t even tell the truth to the people who want to help you. _

_ No, of course not. Because they don’t even care. _

_ You can’t even tell the truth to yourself. _

_ This is my fault. _

_ Well, that goes without saying. Everything is your fault. _

_ How did I  _ get _ here? How could I have let it get this bad? _

_ Don’t know. But you know you deserve it, freak. _

Wesley stares at the ceiling, the thoughts going back and forth and back and forth and over and over and over in his head.

There’s a large pile of unfinished homework on his desk. This is the first time he’s ever gotten a D. He really couldn’t care less.

_ Justcloseyoureyesdon’tfightandit’llallbeoversoon _

_ Icouldhavestoppedhimit’smyfaultit’smyfaultit’smyfaultthey’llknowthey’llknowthey’llknow _

_ No. _

_ They. Won’t. Care. _

He feels his body get out of bed and leave the room, then watches his feet as they walk through the long hallways. He has no destination. No purpose. He’s barely even aware of what he’s doing. He’s a zombie. He just counts his steps and fights with himself.

_ I said no. _

_ Don’t tell. _

_ But...I said no. _

On step 274, Wesley feels a hand on his shoulder. His first thought is, of course, that it’s Jadiel, and he gasps and flinches out of the way, but it’s not. It’s Data.

“Are you alright, Wesley?” he asks.

“Um.”

Long pause. Data waits patiently for an answer. Wesley shakes his head. “No,” he says.

It’s the first truth he’s told in days.

He finds himself in Data’s quarters, being handed a glass of water. Spot hops up from his...spot...on Data’s bed and nuzzles Wesley’s ankles.

A brief smile appears on Wesley’s face. He sets down the water and strokes Spot’s fur.

“It is good to see you smile, Wesley,” Data says, which surprises him.

“What?”

“I am an android, and therefore have no feelings, but I have noticed you becoming rather quiet and withdrawn recently. If there is anything that you need to talk about, you could discuss it with me.”

Wesley pauses and shakes his head. “Not now,” he whispers. Spot hops up on his lap and walks in a circle a few times before lying down and purring so loud he sounds like a motor.

“Curious,” Data says, tilting his head to the side. “Spot is rarely so affectionate with people. Did you know that cats do not only purr because of contentment? They also purr if they are hurt. Purrs have healing qualities. Or, occasionally, if they sense someone else is hurt. They purr to help them feel better.”

Wesley’s head jolts up at the last statement. “They...they do?”

“Yes,” Data clarifies.

The tiniest smile appears on his face again.

For once, all the noise in his head is quiet.

* * *

“Wait. How long did you say this had been going on again?”

“Beverly, calm down. I said a little over three weeks ago is when I really started to sense something was wrong.”

“But...you...you’re just now telling me this?” Beverly sputters.

“Patient confidentiality, Dr. Crusher. Wesley’s over 10. I’m not supposed to tell you anything unless I’m afraid he’s in danger of harming himself.”

Beverly takes a long, deep breath and nods her head. “Okay,” she says. “Tell me again what you’ve been sensing.”

“Well, that’s just it. I’ve been having a really hard time sensing  _ anything _ from Wesley, except for the occasional burst of panic and anxiety. It’s almost like what I sense when somebody’s sleeping, but a lot more...sad. What he told me in our short session made this make a lot more sense. What he described made it sound like he’s been experiencing severe dissociation.”

Beverly nods. “I’ve wondered about that, too. He has seemed a little distant recently. What do you think caused it? You said it just started all of the sudden?”

Deanna sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. “Obviously something happened, because there’s no other explanation as to how and why things got so bad so quickly. What we need to do is find out what.”

“You said you thought he was in danger of harming himself?” Beverly says this in a low, terrified whisper.

Deanna takes Beverly’s hand. “He just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. And he’s not coming to any of us for help. So I just...I’m worried. About what he might try to do.”

Beverly is surprised by the tears that fall down her cheeks. “How…” she puts a hand over her mouth. “How could I not have known?”

* * *

_ I said no. _

_ Butwhatifwhatifwhatif… _

No _. I told him  _ no _. _

_ You could have gotten out of there. You knew it was a bad idea to date Jay in the first place. You never liked him. He scared you from the beginning. You just wanted a distraction. _

_ That doesn’t make it okay. _

_ No. It just makes it your fault. _

_ Shut up. _

_ … _


	4. As You Are

Wesley stares out the window into space, the lights off in his room even though he really should be up by now.

He feels so small, looking out at all of the stars.

He thinks about the entire universe, about how enormous and ethereal and alluring it is in its entirety. He thinks about how many different species there must be, species that haven’t even been discovered yet, beautiful and strange species that live in strange ways on strange worlds in this strange universe. There must be billions.

And he is just one person.

This, as it would to anyone if contemplated upon long enough, comforts him and terrifies him at the same time.

He is insignificant.

So what happened to him doesn’t matter.

_ Nobody notices. Nobody cares. _

_ Shut. Up. _

But if that were true, then nothing that happened to anyone would matter either, and he doesn’t believe that.

Wesley puts his head in his hands and thinks about things like cats purring to help other creatures heal and an android noticing he doesn’t smile anymore and Deanna caring enough to try to talk to him and him not talking back because he’s so  _ scared _ and about when his father died and everyone said he was being so brave and his mother comforting him even when he swore to himself he wouldn’t cry about it.

And he remembers feeling angry.

At his father, for dying and leaving him and his mother behind to live  _ without  _ him, for leaving their family  _ broken.  _ For going off and risking his life and not spending enough time with him.

At Picard, for allowing his father to die and bringing his body back, because there was nobody else to blame for a confused five-year-old who didn’t even completely grasp the concept of death.

At his mother, because she often tried to act as if nothing ever happened.

At himself, for no rational reason whatsoever, as if it was his own fault his father was dead.

Wesley lets a few stray tears slip down his cheeks as he feels a new anger bubbling up inside of him. Not at himself this time, but at  _ Jay _ .

What if he did it to somebody else? What if he tried it again? And for the first time the meaning of the words _sexual assault_ and _rape_ and _victim_ fully set in in his mind.

He pulls his knees up against his chest and leans against the window and lets himself cry.

_ Yourfaultyourfaultyourfault _

_ Shut. Up. _

His head jerks up when he hears the door open, and he looks up at his mom with tears streaming down his cheeks. He looks away when she closes the door behind her and sits next to him. “Hey, honey,” she says softly, carefully placing her hand on Wesley’s back. Wesley lets it stay there.

Beverly doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. She brushes the tears off of Wesley’s cheeks and cautiously scoots closer to him to pull him into a hug.

He wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. He rests his head on her shoulder.

“When you were a tiny newborn, you had this adorable little outfit that was a polka dotted light blue onesie. You were  _ so  _ tiny and cute in it. You were only 5 pounds when you were born. You grew, though. And one day I realized you were too big to fit in that little onesie anymore, and I’m pretty sure I cried.” Beverly smiles, stroking Wesley’s hair. “That was the first time it really sunk in that you were growing up. That you weren’t my tiny newborn baby anymore.”

Wesley closes his eyes and lets himself be held. He can’t remember the last time he’s been hugged like this.

“You’re always gonna be my little boy,” Beverly whispers into his hair, kissing his head. “No matter what. I love you so much, Wesley.”

Wesley covers his face, tears falling much faster now. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Oh, no, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. You didn’t do  _ anything _ wrong. But I need you to tell me what’s been going on.”

“S-Something happened.”

“Yeah? What happened, Wes?”

Pause.

It’s a long, weighted, heavy silence, except for the sound of Wesley’s quiet sobs.

Finally, he speaks, his heart racing and panic stirring in his chest. “I said no,” he whispers.

“What?”

_ HandsgrabbingIsaidnoIsaidnogetoutgetoutgetoutdon’ttelldon’ttelldon’ttelldon’ttell. _

_ No. Shut. Up. _

“I told him no,” he says. “I told him no, and he forced me anyway.”

Beverly’s stomach drops as she realizes what he’s saying. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “You-”

“He told me not to tell. I was scared. I felt so...trapped.”

Beverly squeezes her son and pulls away to look him in the eye. “Who did it?”

“Jadiel Haberman.”

Beverly nods. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she says. “We’re gonna file a report against him, and he’s gonna get booted off to a prison, and you are gonna talk to Deanna and me and take a long break from Starfleet duty so that you can get better.”

Getting better has seemed such a foreign concept for so long. Wesley hugs his mom again. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“I love you,” Beverly tells him. “God, I love you  _ so _ much. It’s gonna be okay, Wes. I promise.”


	5. No

It’s like he’s five years old again, in more ways than just one.

Sitting here in Deanna’s office for the second time this week, he feels so very, very small, painfully aware of the entire universe and how many other people there are that have experienced exactly what’s happening to him right now.

“Wesley, can you tell me what happened?”

_ No _ , the voice whispers in his ear, but he’s said far too much already.

He covers his face as tears begin to brim in his eyes. “I...I was dating this guy,” he says, so quietly Deanna can barely hear him.

“Jadiel?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you like him?”

Wesley shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I was...he looks...I was...physically attracted to him. Yeah. But, um...I never trusted him.”

“So why did you agree to go out with him?”

“I...he...he  _ wanted _ me.” Wesley chokes on his words and hugs himself. “I felt...I felt  _ wanted _ . I was so lonely. I just wanted somebody to  _ like  _ me. I...he was really manipulative, too. But the biggest reason might have been...just...a distraction.”

“A distraction? From what?”

Wesley doesn’t answer for several minutes. He stares at the ground and whispers feebly, “I don’t know. I don’t know what it is. But it got so, so much worse after he...you know…”

“Wesley, do you know what dissociation is?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “You think that’s what’s happening?”

"Yes,” Counselor Troi answers reassuringly. “That’s what I’ve been sensing from you. Dissociation is rather difficult to detect at first, so I want to apologize for not noticing sooner.”

“It’s okay,” Wesley whispers. “I didn’t want you to. Can...can it get better?”  
“Yes. It can get better. You’re going to be okay, Wes. It’s just gonna take some time. What you need to do is to reach out to people and not push us away. Don’t isolate yourself, that just makes it worse.”

“I know. It’s just...it’s hard.”

“And it’s going to be hard. But I promise you that it’s going to be okay.”

Wesley feels like he’s about to start crying again, but he doesn’t. He just stares at the floor and listens to the sound of his own breathing.

_ It’s okay. _

* * *

The worst of it is always at night. That’s when the nightmares and the flashbacks happen.

_ HandsgrabbingtouchingIsaidnoIsaidnostopitgetoutGETOUT _

( _ Stop. I’m here. In my room. Alone. Nothing is going to happen.) _

_ Heartpoundingstomachdroppingpanicpanicpaniceverythingistooloud. _

He sits up, trying to slow down his breathing. This is going to take a long time to stop.

He really doesn’t even notice where he’s going.

He just walks and walks and walks for a long time and probably would have kept on going forever if he hadn’t heard it.

_ It _ .

“Hey, Crusher.”

The words send waves of panic down through his body and it sits in his chest and stomach, weighing down on the frozen remains of a boy. It’s Jay.

When he doesn’t reply, Jay just chuckles and shakes his head, grabbing Wesley firmly by the chin as he forces him to look him in the eye. “You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of pervert. Do you have any idea what this is gonna look like on my records? You told them I  _ raped _ you, you bitch. But really,” he strokes the side of Wesley’s face, sneering at him, “you’re lucky to have gotten laid at all. I’m the only one who wants you, you know.You should be thankful.”

A stray tear escapes his eye and slips down his cheek. Jadiel softly wipes it away, kisses him. At first it’s soft, but he forces his tongue inside Wesley’s mouth, bites his lip,  _ hard _ . Wesley tries to pull away, but Jay is stronger. He pushes him into an empty room behind them.

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby,” Jay purrs, undoing his pants. “You want this. I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”

Wesley finally snaps out of the frozen state he was in and harshly pushes Jay away from him. “No,” he says firmly.

“Oh shut up, you bitch,” Jay growls, advancing on Wes again.

_ Justbestillandquietandit’llallbeover _

_ No. I. Said. No. _

Then he notices the phaser on Jadiel’s belt.

With a sudden burst of courage, Wesley somehow manages to grab the phaser and wrestle Jadiel away from it. “No,” he says simply, the phaser pointed at Jay’s head. The other boy stares at him.

“You’re crazy, man,” he says. Jay tries to push it out of his hands, but before he does so, Wesley switches it to stun and fires.

Jay collapses to the ground.

Wesley drops the gun.

“Oh my God.”

There’s a few moments of shock that follow. “I  _ shot _ him,” he murmurs. “Oh my  _ God _ .” He taps the starfleet insignia on his chest and manages to get out, “security,” before he passes out.

* * *

“Hey, honey,” Beverly whispers, tousling his hair. “You’re up.”

He sits up, feeling well-rested for the first time in probably months. “How long was I out for?”

“Nine hours,” his mom answers, handing him a glass of water.

“Jay?”

“Gone. He was shipped off to the nearest prison after he was found.” Beverly pauses. “He didn’t...he didn’t hurt you again, did you?”

“No.”

They don’t say anything else for a long time. “Oh, wait,” Beverly says suddenly. “There’s someone who wanted to see you. I’ll have to tell her you’re awake. That is, if you’re up for visitors.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

A few minutes later, a timid looking girl walks into the room who he doesn’t quite recognize. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

“Um...I just wanted to thank you. Jay...he...he raped me too. And I’m not the only one. He’s assaulted people younger than me. He’s...I...I don’t know. I just...thank you. I was too scared to tell anyone and now...now I feel safe.”

Wesley gives her a weak smile. “You’re welcome,” he says.

* * *

It’s a long time before the flashbacks stop coming, and even then, the panic attacks and dissociation continue for even longer afterward.

It sometimes feels like they’ll never get better, that he’ll just have to stay this way forever, but he doesn’t.

And although he never really goes back to normal, he does learn to live with everything he’s been through.

With help.

Eventually, he is able to look into the mirror and say the words, "it's okay," without feeling like a liar.

Because it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this chapter took so long to write! I've been struggling with writer's block and self-consciousness and a relapse in my eating disorder...but I have thought of an idea for a sequel if anyone's interested. It would take place while Wes is in starfleet academy. Since I've relapsed in my eating disorder, naturally it's going to be about Wes having an eating disorder. It makes perfect sense for his character, too...he's a bit of a perfectionist, with a lot of insecurities who has got to be under a ton of stress, PLUS a ton of trauma he hasn't quite worked out yet. It's the perfect breeding ground for an ED. (Sorry if I'm weirding anyone out with my messed up brain...)
> 
> Anyway, yeah, that's the end. This is the first multi-chapter story I've ever finished on Ao3, so I'm proud of myself!


End file.
